


Worth It

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Non-Consensual Haircuts, Smut, Trichophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:22:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21873640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: He has absolute trust in her - but someone’s always watching for a weakness.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65
Collections: Supernatural Dreams





	Worth It

“Where ya going?”

Dean’s voice made Sam smile and he carried on with his checklist. Wallet, phone, keys - he was set. But Dean was loitering now, nosiness getting the better of him. “Out,” Sam replied firmly.

“Where?”

He wasn’t letting it go. “Just out, Dean. I’m not nine years old anymore.”

Dean scowled at the remark, crossing his arms over his chest. “You go out, 9am, third Tuesday of the month. Like clockwork.” He paused, giving his brother an scrutinous look. “Is it a girl?”

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t date _girls_, Dean.” The answer wasn’t what the older man was looking for and he waited expectantly. “God, you’re such an old nag sometimes.” Shouldering his way into the corridor, Sam was aware of Dean following him like a puppy wanting to know if they were going on a car ride. “It’s just a regular appointment. You know, the things you do when you’re an adult?”

A smirk crossed the elder sibling’s face. “Gettin’ ya nails done? Nice pedicure?”

“Fuck off,” Sam grumbled, about done with his brother’s antics. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

He slammed the bunker door for good measure, hoping his nosy brother didn’t decide to follow him. Just to be sure, he parked the truck up out of sight a few miles down the road, waiting for Dean to appear in the Impala.

Stealthy, that car was not.

When the coast was clear, Sam pulled out onto the road and headed right across to the other side of Lebanon. It was a sleepy town, not heavily populated, thankfully. There might be questions raised about the weird hydro-plant that didn’t seem to supply energy anywhere.

Sam liked it here. It had taken a long time but he had a favorite bookstore, a favorite bakery and… a favorite salon.

Back at Stanford, he’d started using them regularly. Never the same one twice, until he found a lady just inside the residential district that was mostly retired couples and elderly veterans. The woman who ran that place was a woman in her early sixties, still very much into art deco and who had wonderful hands.

His enjoyment of having someone wash his hair was something he’d never quite managed to let go off. Just losing that control for a few moments, when the stylist really went to town with the shampoo… Sam fucking loved it.

Enough that he felt the need to cover up his monthly trips to Streaks Salon so Dean didn’t think he was some kind of sicko. Who got off on having their hair washed? Of course he knew the word for it; trichophilia. Sam had googled it enough to have figured out what it was.

There was a word for everything these days.

Y/N was the owner of Streaks. She only employed one other lady who never washed his hair, something Sam was thankful for. He didn’t let just anyone touch his hair and okay, Trinny was good with the rinses but Y/N… Y/N touched Sam in a way he could never let her be aware of.

He’d probably get labeled a pervert.

Tuesday was her least busy day and she always had time for him. The first time he’d gone to her, upon the suggestion of Mrs. Walter who ran the fresh grocery stall in town, he hadn’t been sure what to expect. He definitely wasn’t expecting a woman his age, smart, funny, and curvaceous in all the right places.

Sam thought he might have found his own slice of nirvana when she washed his hair for the first time.

Parking the truck outside the salon, Sam locked the doors and jogged in, pleasantly surprised to find only Y/N inside. She smiled at him brightly and he grinned back, closing the door behind him. “Hey, Sam!”

“Hey.” He looked around, concerned that Mrs. Beasley wasn’t in for her pink rinse. “Quieter than usual today?”

Y/N nodded, taking his jacket like she always did, hanging it by the door. Sam followed her through to the back and sat in his usual seat. “Mrs. Beasley went to Florida to visit her sister. I gave Trinny the afternoon off and I think you’re probably going to be my only client today.”

“Any plans?” he asked, leaning back in the seat as she covered him with a PVC apron to stop him getting wet. She slipped the towel under his shoulders, not making eye contact as she smoothed his hair back behind his ears. He was already anticipating the touch, stifling a groan when her nails raked through the long strands.

“Might finish the book I’ve been struggling to get through. It started really well but,” she shrugged, turning the water on and testing it with her hand, “the pacing got all messed up. I’m only reading to find out what happens.”

“Why don’t you google it?” he suggested and she giggled.

“Let me know if this is too hot.” The spray cascaded over the very back of his head, just the right temperature like always. Sam hummed happily, closing his eyes. “I’d feel cheated if I googled the answer. I committed.”

He chuckled at that, the conversation stopping as she ran her fingers through his hair over and over, making sure every strand was saturated with the pure water. With his eyes closed, Sam was grateful for the apron covering his crotch - he was hard as steel in the confines of his pants.

Sometimes, he was sure Y/N was aware of the effect she had on him.

Once his hair was soaked, she squeezed out the excess before reaching for the shampoo. It was the same one he used at home; he tended to buy the product directly from her, just to help her out a little. This store was one of the few places he paid cash - he didn’t want to get her in trouble with a fake card.

The shampoo smelled like blueberries and patchouli, soothing Sam as Y/N worked it through his hair, her fingers squelching with the lather. His body was almost entirely lax, his feet against the floor holding him in the seat and the curved sink supporting his neck.

For thirty minutes, she massaged and rinsed, repeating it until she swapped out the shampoo for the conditioner. Coating his hair in the slimy substance, she set about massaging it through again, careful not to miss the spots behind his ears.

Sam was ashamed that his cock was leaving a wet spot against his boxers when she touched him there.

The final rinse is too soon and Sam sighed, enjoying the final few moments of her ministrations. When she was done, he sat up, letting her wrap the towel around his head. He followed her to her usual station, sitting in the chair that was lowered all the way to the ground - it had to be for him.

Y/N smiled at him in the mirror. “Just a trim? Same as usual?”

Sam smiled back. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Can I get you a coffee?”

He liked that she always tried to drag this part out. She’d spend forever cutting away the tiniest strands of his hair, so much that it was mostly pointless cutting it at all. But Sam liked that.

“Sure,” he accepted, grinning brightly as she unraveled the towel and dried his hair out a little. Turning away from him, she disappeared into the back room, not reappearing for several minutes, two coffees in her hands.

It went quiet as she handed his to him and placed hers on the side, picking up the comb. She was moving almost robotically and Sam frowned, wondering if she was okay. The fact that she wasn’t talking was making him uneasy; normally she chatted away about pretty much anything, like all hairdressers did.

Once she’d combed through his hair, she leaned over, grabbing the scissors.

Something in his chest curled when she drew closer, the smell of sulphur making every alarm in his head go off.

“Y/N -”

The scissors were too close to his head. Sam met her eyes in the mirror, starting when he realized her gaze was pitch black.

She snipped through his hair and Sam yelled, pulling away from her like he’d been burned, knocking over his drink and half a dozen bottles of product. The demon wearing Y/N grinned at him. “Hello, Sam.”

“What the fuck?!” He touched the back of his head, feeling the significantly shorter length of the chunk she’d snipped off. “Who the hell are you?”

“You’re not very stealthy,” she pointed out, twirling the tiny scissors in her hand. “I mean, you have a regular standing appointment here. Which is kinda girly.”

Sam grunted in dismay, wishing his knife was in his hand and not in his jacket pocket. “Let her go.”

“Why? She’s pretty!” He inched to the left, closer to the door but the demon knew what he was doing. “Uh-uh-uh,” she scolded. “I’ll slit her throat.” She held up the scissors threateningly and Sam froze.

He had to figure out how to subdue her. “What do you want?”

“Just a little payback,” the demon chuckled. “You sent me back to hell. I had to claw my way out. Lucky for you, I’m patient.”

“Lucky me,” Sam ground out. “So what do we do now? You’ve had your fun. You gonna try and kill me?” He laughed mirthlessly. “That never turns out so well.”

The demon shrugged, looking down at the body she’d stolen. “I guess I’m improvising.”

Moving quickly, Sam grabbed the unspilled coffee behind him and threw it, right into Y/N’s face. She screamed, clutching her eyes as she went down and Sam started to chant the exorcism, rushing the words as much as he could without fudging them.

Writhing on the floor, Y/N’s body started to spasm as the demon was ejected and as soon as her mouth closed, black smoke completely evacuated, Sam dropped to her side. His huge hands cradled her face, checking her for injuries.

How long had she been possessed?

“Y/N?” he hissed, tapping her cheek lightly. “Y/N, wake up for me.”

She groaned and blinked her eyes open, staring up at him in terror. “What the hell…”

“Are you okay?” he asked, checking her over again. For a few seconds, she didn’t speak, slowly sitting up with his assistance. “Y/N?”

“Everything went black,” she whispered, covering her mouth with one hand. The coffee didn’t appear to have done too much damage to her face, aside from a little redness around her eyes. “Then…” She gasped, looking up at him. “Oh, God. Sam… your hair.”

He’d almost forgotten.

Reaching back, he gingerly touched the hugely obvious chunk, glancing at the missing hair lying underneath the chair he’d been sat in.

“I’m so sorry!” Y/N exclaimed, tears filling her eyes. “I didn’t -”

“Hey, hey,” he soothed her, helping her to her feet. “It wasn’t your fault, okay?” Forcing a smile onto his face, Sam bent down and picked up the scissors. “Maybe you could fix it?”

She swallowed, accepting the tool with shaking hands. “I could hear a voice,” she mumbled, “in my head. Someone was laughing and I couldn’t do anything.” Her frightened gaze met his. “Sam, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop it!”

“You’re okay now,” Sam insisted, stroking her shoulder gently.

“I can try and fix it,” she muttered, eyeing the damage from her limited view. “But… there’s a huge chunk -”

Sam couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through him. He remembered when he was six, and he caught head lice at school. John had shaved their heads to get rid of them and Sam hated every second of it. After that, he’d taken extra care not to catch them again, and hated having his hair cut.

Sliding back into his seat, Sam stared into the mirror. He didn’t want to see this happen. “Could we… this is going to sound stupid but I don’t want to watch.”

The guilt on her face was almost as unbearable as watching his hair get cut off; Y/N nodded and moved toward the mirror, pulling down the dust cover that completely obliterated his reflection. 

She was quick, he had to give her that. Like she was removing a bandaid, she worked as fast as she could, trying to salvage as much of the length as possible. It felt too light and airy - Sam already hated it.

Finally, she stopped, placing the scissors back on the stand. “I think… I think that’s as good as I can get. I’m so sorry, Sam.” He could hear the tears in her voice and he tore the apron off, running his fingers through the significantly shortened locks to shake out the strands.

When he looked at Y/N, she was in tears, covering her mouth like she couldn’t believe what had happened.

“It’s okay,” Sam assured her, lying through his teeth. He wasn’t okay but this wasn’t her fault, he couldn’t lay any blame on her. “Hair grows back.”

He wanted to hug her but right now, he thought it would be better if he left. As he went for his wallet, Y/N reached out, touching his hand. “Don’t even think about paying me, Sam. I… I couldn’t.” She turned away, her tears only renewing.

Sam hesitated. Y/N loved what she did and just him being there might have ruined it for her. He couldn’t just leave without making sure she was okay. “Y/N -” She was already walking away from him, toward the counter at the other end of the store. He tore his apron off, tossing it over the chair before following her. “Y/N, please don’t blame yourself.”

Her eyes didn’t meet him and he stood awkwardly a few feet behind her, unsure what to say or do. The feeling of so much air getting to the back of his neck was unsettling and he scratched at it absently, grimacing when his hand met no resistance.

It would grow back. It was just hair.

“Are you gonna be okay?” he asked, stepping forward and Y/N turned, red-rimmed eyes focused on him, a smile entirely forged from bravado on her face.

“I’m fine. It’s… I don’t…” She sighed, obviously unsure what to say. It was clear she didn’t understand what had happened but Sam didn’t want to tell her, mostly because he didn’t want to ruin her life.

There was no going back when you knew the truth.

“I’m just gonna close up. Get some rest.” The smile on her lips faltered. “Read my book.”

Sam nodded, trying to offer her a sympathetic expression but she was already turning away from him to grab her keys. His face fell and he shuffled backward to the door, grabbing his jacket and glancing back at her one last time.

“I’ll see you next month?” he asked, hoping she’d accept it as a form of olive branch. He really didn’t blame her for what had happened. She nodded, without turning, and Sam sighed, stepping out of the shop into the warm summer air.

The lock clicked behind him and the shutters started to roll down. He looked up at the bright neon sign in dismay, hoping he hadn’t just ruined her life by bringing his crashing into it.

A breeze caught the back of his head and Sam shuddered, rushing back to the truck. Hopefully, the store would have something to cover his head.

“What’s with the headgear?”

He should have known Dean wouldn’t let the grey beanie pass. It didn’t help that he had to get one with “I❤KANSAS” embroidered on the side. But it wasn’t like Sam could avoid him until his hair grew back. “Oh, you know, it’s getting colder.”

Dean frowned, standing on the other side of the library table. “It’s August.”

Sam swallowed, focusing steadfastly on his phone. He should have been paying attention - then he might have stood a chance at stopping his brother’s hand swiping the hat from his head. Making a grab for it too late, he was treated to a horrified look on Dean’s face.

“What the hell?”

The younger Winchester shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I wanted a change.”

“Liar. Your hair is like… the source of your power,” Dean snorted. “What happened? Jealous girlfriend?”

Grunting, Sam snatched his hat back, pulling it back on. It wasn’t like he’d got a buzzcut. His hair had been this short about ten years ago. “You’re just too old to remember when I had it like this before.”

“And you suddenly decided to go and chop it all off?”

The whole situation wasn’t something he could keep from his brother. He knew that. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair. “No.” Dean sat down, utterly confused - Sam scrubbed a hand over his face, preparing to come clean. “There’s this salon I like.”

He paused, waiting for the inevitable scorn from the older man but Dean just raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve been going there for about a year. Every third Tuesday. Like you said this morning… regular. Y/N owns the place -”

“So there is a woman,” Dean chuckled, gesturing for Sam to continue.

“Yeah, yeah. Sort of. Nothing’s happened. She just… she has really nice hands.” Sam could feel the heat in his cheeks as he continued, unable to look his brother in the eye. “The place was empty this morning and Y/N went out back after she’d washed my hair to get a coffee. I shoulda noticed something was off - I mean, I did! But… I wasn’t quick enough.”

“What happened?” Dean asked, concern more apparent than amusement on his face. “Is she okay?”

“She got possessed,” Sam mumbled, looking down at his hands. “Some demon was stalking me for revenge and managed to cut a chunk outta my hair before I could stop it. I exorcised it and Y/N tried to fix the damage but -”

“Oh, man. You like her.”

Frowning, Sam glanced up. “Didn’t you hear the part where she got possessed? I didn’t know what to tell her, Dean!” He pushed up out of his chair, pacing in frustration. “She’s such a nice person. She didn’t deserve to suddenly have her bodily autonomy stripped away like that.” Meeting Dean’s eyes, he paused for a minute. “We both know what that’s like.”

Dean was silent, seconds ticking by as they both remembered their own individual experiences and Sam returned to his seat.

“Anyway, I left and she locked up. I didn’t know what to do and now… I’m just worried. She blamed herself for this but there was no way she could stop it.” He sighed. “And hair does grow back.”

“Are you gonna go back?” Dean asked, genuinely concerned. “I mean, you might wanna come up with a story or… maybe just tell her the truth?” Sam snorted at that idea and Dean shrugged, sitting back in his chair. “If you like her, Sam, you should at least try and be honest with her.”

“Thanks, Dr. Phil,” Sam sneered, crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll take her some flowers, apologize for my crazy demon hunting life crashing into her. That’s a fantastic idea.” His words were laden with sarcasm and Dean grunted, shaking his head as he stood up.

“Come up with a cover story then.” The older man turned, preparing to leave before changing his mind and looking back at his brother. “Maybe get her a anti-possession charm. And thank her for taking ten years off your ugly mug.” He chuckled at the sour look on Sam’s face. “Could be worse. She coulda given you a buzz cut.”

The Men Of Letters bunker carried everything they needed for hunting… and then some. It took most of the evening before Sam had located enough pieces to make a small anti-possession charm, and it was well past midnight when he’d finally finished putting it together. The bracelet was simple; a thin yet sturdy silver chain with three charms on it to prevent possession, hexing, and one that simply gave good luck.

He just had to hope it came across as a friendly gift, an apology for the situation he’d landed her in, and not as if he was stalking her.

The next morning, Sam woke up and went for his run, finding it a little more comfortable without sweat plastering his long hair to the back of his neck. Showering seemed to take half the time now, although he still didn’t do anything more than run his fingers through it once it had dried.

Dean wasn’t up when he left, something he was kinda grateful for. He was certain the older man was still laughing at his situation, and Sam wasn’t looking for any more misguided comments about his love life.

On his way into town, Sam stopped at the grocery store to grab some fresh flowers. It was only a simple posy of yellow carnations; he knew yellow signified friendship, and as he was fairly certain he’d blown any chances of a connection with Y/N, he didn’t want to push his luck.

The salon was locked up when he got there, way past the normal opening time, and he sat in his truck, worrying that something else had happened. What if more demons had returned when he’d left? What if there was more than one stalking him?

Y/N lived in the apartment above the salon. The entrance was behind the actual store and it didn’t take long for Sam to scale the steps, hovering on the balcony as he waited for her to answer his knock. When he didn’t get any reply whatsoever, he started to worry even more.

Picking the lock took him less than thirty seconds and he slipped into the apartment, looking around to see if there was any sign of trouble. The whole apartment was dark, windows and blinds all closed. He could hear the radio in the bedroom so he approached slowly, not daring to call out her name.

She was sitting on the bed, watching some daytime drama that he was sure Dean had watched before. Stopping at the doorway, Sam cleared his throat - Y/N didn’t jump, although she looked plenty surprised to see him standing inside her home.

“Sam?” she blinked, sitting up a little straighter. “How did you get in here?”

He offered her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I was really worried after yesterday.”

Her expression crumbled. “Oh.”

Moving a little closer, he held out the flowers. “I don’t even know if you like flowers but… like I said, I was worried.”

Y/N reached out, taking the flowers hesitantly. “So… you broke in?” 

Sam laughed nervously. “Yeah. Only a little. I didn’t break the door.”

Chewing the inside of her cheek, she regarded him warily. “A normal person would call the police,” she commented slowly. “But you’re… I know you’re a good man, Sam.” Sighing, she laid the flowers on the bed. “I’m sorry, I’ve been struggling to get my head round it. I’ve never lost control like that.”

“You didn’t lose control,” Sam said, sitting down on the furthest edge of the bed, keeping his body turned to her. “Listen, Y/N, I can tell you what happened. But it’s… it’s really fucking weird and I don’t wanna freak you out anymore.”

“I want to know,” she blurted out, tears in her eyes. “I feel like I’m going crazy.” Her gaze swept over him, her bottom lip trembling when she saw the beanie covering his head. “Your hair…”

“It’ll grow back,” he repeated, “besides, it’s a little cooler.” She giggled, snorting through her tears and Sam smiled, reaching out to touch her hand. “Y/N, this really wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I brought this to your door and I should have been more careful.”

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. “How could you have done this? The scissors were in my hands, Sam.”

“You were possessed,” he explained gently.

Seconds ticked by as Y/N stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Huh?” she finally managed.

“A demon possessed you,” he said. “I… I hunt demons. Monsters. Things that people don’t usually know about. One of them followed me and… possessed you. To try and hurt me.” She blinked, processing the information and Sam felt his heart thundering in his chest. If she called the cops now, he wouldn’t blame her.

“Demons?” she repeated quietly and he nodded. “Demons are real?”

“Yes.”

She sucked in a breath, the motion making her entire body shudder. “I mean, on the one hand, that’s crazy. But on the other…” Closing her eyes, she tried not to recall the experience. “I could hear it. In my head.”

Sam tightened his fingers around hers, trying to offer comfort. “It won’t come back,” he promised. “But just in case…” Reaching for his pocket with his free hand, Sam pulled the little case free, handing it to her. “If you wear this, it’ll protect you.”

Y/N took the case, opening it and peering at the contents. “It’s very pretty.”

He smiled. “I noticed that you don’t wear a lot of jewelry so I kept it simple.” Her fingers pulled the bracelet free from the case, allowing her to inspect the charms. “This one,” Sam pointed at the anti-possession charm, “keeps that from happening again. As long as you have it on your person, you won’t be able to be possessed.”

She nodded, turning the charm over in her hands. “This really works? Like magic?”

Sam grinned. “Sort of.” Lifting his hand to his collar, he unfastened the first three buttons, pulling his shirt to the side to show her his tattoo. “I’ve got something a little more permanent.” She stared at his inking before glancing back to the charm, almost like she was comparing it. “The other two charms… one is for good luck and the other is to ward off hexing. Just in case.”

As if she knew what he meant by that, Y/N nodded again, unclipping the bracelet to open it. “Would you mind?” she asked, holding out her wrist with the chain looped over it. Sam took the jewelry from her, connecting each end around her wrist - when the bracelet was in place, he didn’t let go, her fingers held loosely in his.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he whispered earnestly. “I never wanted you to get hurt.”

“You didn’t know, right?” she murmured, meeting his gaze hesitantly. Her hand remained in his, her fingers lightly clutching at his palm.

“No,” he confirmed, shaking his head. “But I should have been more careful.”

“You didn’t know,” she repeated. “You shouldn’t have to apologize for something you couldn’t predict, Sam. If anything…” She laughed a little, no humor in the sound. “I still can’t believe I did this. That I ruined your beautiful hair.” He blushed a little at that and Y/N rushed to cover up the slip. “I mean, your hair is gorgeous. You’re gorgeous.” Her jaw dropped and he couldn’t help but laugh.

His hand tightened around hers. “So are you,” he confessed, his grin lopsided and boyish. “And like I said, hair grows back. I wouldn’t know what to do if you’d been hurt by that thing.” Y/N sniffed, smiling at him.

“You like having your hair washed,” she observed, watching him closely. “I mean, you really like having your hair washed.”

“Yeah,” Sam mumbled, suddenly unable to look her in the eye.

“You know, if routine is the problem,” Y/N started, her thumb stroking the back of his knuckles, “then maybe you shouldn’t come by on a Tuesday anymore.” He looked up, frowning, worried she was about to say she wouldn’t have him as a customer. “I do mobile salon hours too, you know. And… well, I never have anything to do in the evening.”

“Are…” He swallowed, unsure of her intentions. “You’re offering to come to my place and wash my hair?”

She giggled. “Sam, I love washing your hair almost as much as you like having it washed. It’s so soft and… well, the rest of you isn’t too bad to look at either.” Sam couldn’t help the smirk on his lips at her comment, finding himself drawn a little closer to her.

The flowers rustled when he shifted on the bed but neither of them seemed to care. “Y/N -”

She interrupted him before he could corral his thoughts into some sort of sense. “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me?”

He froze. The request had taken him completely off guard and it didn’t take long for Y/N to think she’d made a mistake. She pulled back, looking horrified at her own bold move.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That was -”

Sam pressed forward, granting her the kiss. Unfortunately, it was surprising enough for her to topple backward off the bed, taking Sam with her. They landed on the floor in a heap, neither of them speaking for a few minutes until she burst into giggles.

His own laughter bubbled up to join hers and they stayed on the floor, almost entwined together as they laughed. When the mirth ebbed out, he propped his head on his elbow, both of them content to remain put for a moment.

“Don’t stop doing what you love,” Sam murmured, capturing her hand and bringing her knuckles to his lips. “Not when you’re so good at it.”

“I won’t,” Y/N promised, shifting a little closer. This time, she initiated the kiss, pressing her lips softly against his. Sam’s eyes automatically fluttered shut and he leaned in, sliding his fingers through her hair to cup the side of her head.

It wasn’t a deep kiss but it was enough to make a shudder run up his spine. They parted, not by much, just enough for them to look at each other; Y/N smiled, unable to tear her eyes from his.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that for a pretty long time,” she admitted, almost in a whisper.

Sam chuckled, stroking his thumb over her cheek before moving back to get to his feet and help her up. “Are you gonna be okay?” he asked, still worried that she wasn’t over the demon encounter. She shuddered, still holding onto his hand.

“I’m not gonna lie to you,” she murmured, “I still can’t wrap my head around… demons. It’s… it’s a lot.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding his head slightly. “You know, if there’s anything you wanna ask -”

“Do I really wanna know?” she asked, looking up at him with a small frown. “I mean, it seems too big. Yesterday, I would have laughed in your face if you told me demons were real but having… having one take control of me like that? Knowing the damage I could have done?” Panic tightened her chest and her breathing increased. “What if it had done more than cut your hair, Sam? Those scissors are sharp. It could have… god, I couldn’t have lived with myself -”

Sam cut her off, taking hold of her shoulders. “It didn’t. You can’t live your life with ‘what if’s’, Y/N. I’m fine, you’re gonna be fine, and you have protection now.” 

“I know,” she whispered. “You’re here.”

His cheeks darkened. “I meant… I mean, I meant the bracelet but… yeah.” He nodded, smiling softly. “Yeah. I’m here too.” A thought struck him and he jerked his head towards the door. “Hey, how about breakfast?”

_Two months later…_

He didn’t bother to keep himself quiet as her fingers slid through his hair, massaging his scalp. Y/N smiled, keeping at it until she’d worked up a good lather, covering his rapidly growing locks. Sam’s eyes were shut, his entire posture relaxed where he was laid back over the sink.

She was glad she’d decided to close the salon so they could have a little alone time.

Rinsing out the first shampoo, Y/N tapped his nose to get his attention. “You doing okay there?”

“I’m good,” he drawled, not opening his eyes. “Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” she giggled, squeezing a fresh dollop of shampoo into her hands. “You were right about it growing back quickly.”

“S’only because it gets all this wonderful attention,” Sam mumbled, arching a little when she started to rub her fingers into his scalp. “God, you’re so good at that.” 

His hair kink was contagious. After the demon encounter - which there’d been no repeat of, thankfully - she’d offered to wash his hair once a week, as she’d noticed he wasn’t great at washing his own conditioner out. Sam hadn’t even hesitated to agree and Y/N had decided she quite liked watching him writhe and moan under such a simple act.

Hence why the salon was always closed. They attempted once to share a shower but Sam was simply too tall for her to be able to do the job the way she knew he liked, plus he got very distracted by her being naked and neither of them ended up very clean at all.

The last two months had been spectacular. It had taken a while for her to regain the confidence to reopen the salon fully, mostly letting Trinny run things while she caught up on admin and taxes, but once she was back in the saddle… it wasn’t so bad.

The charm Sam had given her was always on her wrist and it made her feel better that she had some protection.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that Sam was always around. She liked that a little more than the bracelet.

Running her fingertips behind his ears, she found that little spot she knew made him tingle, and she grinned when she was rewarded with a low moan. Repeating the gesture produced the same sound and Sam’s hands clenched on the armrests of the salon chair.

“Is that good?” she purred, dragging her fingers through the strands. Sam nodded, still not opening his eyes. Grabbing the showerhead, she started to rinse it out, only turning away to grab the conditioner. When she turned back, her gaze dropped to his face and the completely blissed out expression - closed eyes and slightly parted lips made him the picture of sin.

She didn’t want to rush the conditioner but watching him like that was making her want to climb into his lap.

Sam groaned again when her hands started to work the liquid into his hair, his head tipping back just a little like he couldn’t get enough of her touch. Y/N bit her lip between her teeth as she worked, trying not to get distracted by the look on his face.

Rinsing out the conditioner, she found her hands shaking and she couldn’t work fast enough. Sam remained obediently still until she was done, lifting his head so she could wrap the towel around it. “Don’t move,” she whispered, meeting his confused gaze when he finally opened his eyes.

“Huh? What -”

His question was cut off as she moved around the chair, straddling him to initiate a bruising kiss. Sam moaned into her mouth, bringing his hands up to cradle her hair, deepening the caress. When they broke apart, they were both panting and Y/N could feel his arousal bulging the seam of his pants.

“I really want you,” she murmured, brushing her lips against his, simultaneously grinding down again him. Her knees slipped under the armrests, giving her plenty of leverage to work with but Sam wasn’t being patient.

Slipping one hand between her legs, his fingers easily got underneath her skirt, dragging her panties to one side. He pushed a single digit into her, grinning when she arched up, thrusting her covered breasts into his fact. The fabric didn’t bother him; Sam nipped at her nipple through her shirt, chuckling when she cried out.

“Want you too,” he agreed, using his other hand to unbuckle his pants, pushing them down as far as he could. The towel fell off of his head, laying against the sink, serving as extra padding when he used his hips to push her up a little more.

It wasn’t the easiest of positions but Sam’s eagerness made up for it. With one hand he stroked his cock, the other working his finger inside her. Y/N was already dripping for him and Sam couldn’t keep control.

She whimpered when he pulled his hand away, only to scream in the next moment when he filled her with one thrust, the chair pinning them close together. He growled, clenching his jaw as her heat overwhelmed him, forcing him to stop dead so he didn’t lose himself completely.

“Sam… Sam…” Y/N chanted his name, her head tipped back and eyes closed, mimicking the position he’d been in while she was washing his hair. Sam gripped her hips tightly, keeping his thrusts slow and measured, unable to take his gaze off of her face.

He felt it when she came; her muscles tightened around him, making him grunt. Her fingers tangled in his shirt, most of her weight on his chest, and her entire body shuddered, a drawn out moan following it. Sam let her ride it out, holding her hips loosely, smirking when she finally went lax, barely holding herself up.

“My turn?” he asked, receiving a lazy smile in reply.

His arms flexed when he lifted her again, this time removing her from his lap in a move that made her whine with loss. He ignored it, dropping her to her knees onto the chair and dragging her panties down her thighs before pushing his pants down.

Placing his hands on her ass, he spread her wide, lining up before sinking into her again. The deeper angle made her squeak, her hands grabbing the chair for some sort of stability as Sam started to fuck her hard. The chair shook with the force of his movements and Y/N screamed as she gave into a second climax.

Sam wasn’t far behind. With one hard thrust, he buried himself as deep as he could go, almost snarling as he came, filling her until his cum was dripping down her thighs. Y/N gasped against the chair, half-unconscious with pleasure, unable to do anything except take what he was giving her.

When he was done, he slumped over, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair.

Y/N started to giggle.

“What?” he pouted, a little offended.

“Nothing,” she whispered, still chuckling under her breath. “I’m just glad I didn’t take the discounted fabric chairs. Leather is so much easier to keep clean.”


End file.
